Time to Kill
by Zubeneschamali
Summary: AU for 'In Security'. What if there was another reason for Benny Natale to hang around L.A. after killing Leah Wexford — like getting revenge on the FBI agent who thwarted him five years ago in Albuquerque?
1. Chapter 1

Title: Time to Kill  
Author: Zubeneschamali  
Rating: T (language, violence)  
Summary: AU for "In Security." What if there was another reason for Benny Natale to hang around L.A. after killing Leah Wexford—like getting revenge on an FBI agent who thwarted him five years ago in Albuquerque?

A/N: Thanks to ritt for looking it over, and thanks to Mr. Z, of all people, for the plot bunny. This is not only a "what if" for "In Security," it's also an experiment in point-of-view. Let me know what you think…

oooooooooooooooo

Benny Natale shifted his position for the fourth time in the last half hour, trying to keep his foot from falling asleep. He tilted his head from side to side, cracking his neck. He couldn't exactly get out and stretch his legs. But if this took much longer, he was liable to be unconscious here in the back seat when his target finally showed up, and then he'd be screwed. He sighed and checked the clip in his gun for at least the tenth time. Eight bullets, but all it was gonna take was one. One with Special Agent Don Eppes' name on it.

As soon as he'd heard the names "Leah Wexford" and "Los Angeles," the idea had struck him. He'd jumped at the chance to get the bitch back for everything and everyone she'd betrayed five years ago. Eppes hadn't been part of the deal, but there was no way he was leaving town without paying the man a visit. He'd heard through the grapevine of his move away from Albuquerque, and this was too good an opportunity to pass up. The potential payback was even more enormous, once he thought about it, and it took only a couple of days to get a plan going.

"Don Eppes" hadn't been in the phone book. But "Alan" and "Charlie" had, and several hours of waiting down the block from their house had brought him success. He'd followed the big black SUV with government plates out of the driveway about a mile to a large hospital that he recognized from the news reports about the Wexford kid. _Aw, isn't that sweet. Visiting the kid to say he's sorry about his mom_. Benny's mouth twisted in a sneer. _S'pose he'll be seeing her soon enough anyway_.

He'd waited for fifteen minutes in case this was a quick visit. When a quarter of an hour elapsed with no FBI agent in sight, he slipped out of the new rental he'd picked up after fleeing the Holiday Lodge moments ahead of the FBI raid that Frederickson had warned him about. Then he'd easily picked the lock on the Suburban and slipped into the back seat, nestling himself on the floor behind the passenger seat and drawing his gun, ready for his target to enter.

That had been three hours ago. By now, darkness had fallen, his legs were cramping up, and he was starting to wonder just how long the damn Fed was going to take paying his respects. _Come on, he's not even your kid_, he thought. _Don't you have a murderer to catch?_ He couldn't hold back a snicker. Eppes was going to find out where Leah Wexford's killer was soon enough. As soon as he got in his car, as a matter of fact.

Benny was just about to stretch out his legs when a sound made him freeze. There was a key scraping in the lock of the driver's side door. He wrapped his hand more firmly around the butt of his gun and took a slow, deep breath. Everything depended on the next few moments, on how the FBI agent entered the vehicle and how much attention he paid to his surroundings. Benny went absolutely still, turning his head towards the back of the seat in front of him to keep the lights of the parking lot from reflecting off his face but still looking out of the corner of his eye at the man entering the front seat.

Much to his relief, Eppes simply climbed into the vehicle and shut the door behind him without looking anywhere but out the front windshield. Then he just sat there for a while in the darkness, staring out across the parking lot. Benny held his breath, waiting for the agent to reach forward with the keys, the moment when his hand would be the farthest away from his own weapon and when he'd be the most vulnerable. In a few seconds, his patience was rewarded as Eppes shook his head and started to move his right hand towards the ignition.

Now.

Left hand on the seat, right hand gripping the gun, Benny levered himself upwards, moving as quickly as he could to keep the element of surprise. His leather jacket creaked the slightest bit as he moved, and Eppes' head started to turn at the sound. But by that time, his Sig Sauer was at the agent's neck, the end of the barrel pressing into his hairline right behind his ear.

Benny watched as his target instantly went still, his eyes shifting upwards to the rearview mirror. Recognition flared on his face, but nothing more. That irked Benny a little. Leah Wexford had recognized him in a second, her panicked expression advertising that she knew her number was up—and who was dialing it. This guy wasn't showing anything more than awareness that something unexpected had happened and that he wasn't in control of the situation at the moment. _You've got a gun to your head_, he wanted to say. _Doesn't that freak you out a little?_

Instead he said in a low voice, "Hands on the wheel, nice and slow, at ten and four."

Eppes' eyes never left his in the mirror as he obeyed, slowly reaching out and wrapping his fingers around the top of the steering wheel. Benny switched the gun to his left hand without moving it from its position. He reached between the two front seats and pulled the agent's jacket aside before withdrawing the standard-issue Glock from its holster and dropping it onto the seat behind him. Eppes didn't move, his eyes tracking the activity in the mirror while his head remained perfectly still. For a second, Benny was close enough to see the pulse point in Eppes' neck jumping, beating out a fast rhythm that was at odds with his calm exterior. _Hah. Gotcha, tough guy_.

"Cell phone," he demanded. "Carefully, with your left hand."

He applied just a little bit more force with his gun, not wanting the agent to think he had any opportunity to make a move. But Eppes did exactly as he was told, keeping his right hand in place and slowly reaching for his belt and removing his cell phone. He reached across his body and offered the phone, turning his head slightly and looking at Benny out of the corner of his eye. Benny snatched the phone and tossed it onto the bucket seat next to the Glock. "Hands back on the wheel," he said unnecessarily, for Eppes' left hand was already moving back to its place at ten o'clock.

He paused for a moment, hoping to rattle the other man by building anticipation for what was coming next. Eppes had to know what was going on here, had to be expecting the trigger to be pulled and his head to be blown off. And if Benny watched carefully, he could see the other man's chest rising and falling faster than it should be. Oh yeah, he knew his time was up. All that remained was to make it happen.

"Put your seat belt on," he commanded, and he was soon obeyed. With Eppes restrained at least a little bit, he felt safe clambering over the center console and into the front passenger seat. Once he had dropped into the seat, he pulled the gun back from the other man's head but kept it pointed at him. "Turn on the car," he ordered, putting on his own seat belt. "Let's go."

"Where to?" Eppes asked quietly, his voice low but steady as he turned the key in the ignition.

"Out to Lake Street, then north." He'd been in town for a few days, long enough to scope out a few choice spots for what he was about to do. He had no way of knowing for sure where and when he'd be able to overcome Eppes, so he'd had to have a few different places in mind. Here in Pasadena, with the canyons of the San Gabriel Mountains only a few miles away, there were plenty of spots to drop a body over the edge and trust that it wouldn't be found for days. By then, he'd be well out of L.A. and well out of the country, away from the ridiculous restrictions of the Witness Security fools and on his way to a better life.

They drove through the near-deserted nighttime streets in silence. Benny's aim remained steady, the butt of the Sig resting on his left thigh, the barrel aimed straight at the driver, too low to be seen from outside the vehicle but all too visible to the person at the wrong end of the weapon. Eppes kept his hands near the top of the wheel and his gaze out the windshield, occasionally glancing to his right. _As if anything's going to change over here,_ Benny thought scornfully. He might be a little out of practice, having been stuck in Seattle for five years, but he still knew how to read body language, how to control his target, and how to get the job done. And he'd been looking forward to completing this particular job for a long time. He wasn't about to screw it up.

"So who told you where to find her?" The agent's voice finally broke the silence, tightly-controlled anger audible under the level surface.

Benny snorted. "You think I'm gonna tell you?"

Another quick glance in his direction, at the carefully-aimed weapon. "At this point, it doesn't seem like you have much to lose," came Eppes' reply, pitched as though he was holding a regular conversation and not talking to a killer who was about to make him another notch on his gun belt, as it were.

Benny shifted in his seat, turning sideways and leaning slightly back against the door. The streetlights lit the agent's face as they passed by, sharply outlining his profile before it was plunged into darkness again. Light, then dark. Light, then dark. He could tell from his expression that the other man didn't believe the words he'd just said. Bastard probably still thought he could get out of this somehow and was trying to get him to confess beforehand. _Fat chance of that_.

"Bet you wished you could have been there to protect her," he sneered. "Thought I was going to get two birds with one stone for a minute there." He'd been genuinely surprised when Leah had gone inside by herself the other night, based on what he knew of her past. "You were happy enough to do her with her husband barely in his grave. What's the matter, she too old for you now?"

A murderous glare and white knuckles around the steering wheel were his only reply.

He let out a chuckle. _Touched a nerve there, I guess_. "Hey, I'm just asking. She used to be great in the sack, but I guess things change, huh?"

This time he got a sharper look, equal parts curiosity and anger. He answered the unspoken question. "She wasn't a grieving widow yet when I, uh,_knew_ her. But now she got all dressed up for you and you didn't even go in with her. Maybe she's let herself go or something, but from where I was sitting, she looked like she still had it."

"Leah Wexford was a brave woman who deserved far better than what she got." The statement was delivered in a cold, flat tone that brooked no dissent or further discussion.

Of course, Benny was holding the gun, which meant he got to lead the discussion. "I've always wondered, Eppes. Is it true that you got her to turn by sleeping with her? 'Cause I gotta say, I've heard of guys who could persuade women to do anything, but to betray her family and friends like that must mean that you're one hot stud."

There was no response this time, and the back of his neck started prickling. He followed Eppes' gaze out the windshield and narrowed his eyes. Two blocks ahead, a Pasadena police car was heading towards them, lights on but sirens off, respecting the late hour. He thumbed back the hammer on the gun, the _click_ loud within the confines of the SUV. "Keep driving," he said. "Anyone pulls us over, I shoot them right before I shoot you."

The next sweep of the streetlights illuminated the tight lines around the agent's mouth. Following the law, he slowed and pulled over into the right-hand lane as the police car swept past, but he did nothing to attract the cops' attention. Then he resumed their speed and direction, his grim expression unchanging.

The slope of the road they were on had changed from a barely-noticeable incline to a definite hill, getting steeper the closer they got to the mountains. Of course, the only way Benny knew the mountains were out there in the darkness was the abrupt end of the regular lines of orange-tinted streetlights once the terrain got too steep. They continued to climb in a straight line, leaving the commercial district behind for a residential area. About ten minutes more, he figured. Then a short walk, and then the trip back by himself. He flicked the safety back on. No sense in accidentally firing the weapon if they hit a pothole too hard.

After a moment, Eppes started up again, his voice still sounding like he was the one in charge, like he had the right to be asking the questions. "Someone must have told you where to find her. Because if you'd known all along, there's no reason for you to have waited five years to track her down."

"Maybe I wanted her to forget about it."

Eppes was shaking his head, sounding almost like he was talking to himself. "And there's no way McGurn would have known all this time, either, or she'd already be dead. No, someone told you where she was, someone who had access to her file and an FBI badge."

"You're pretty smart for a Fed, you know that?" Not that Benny was admitting to anything here, but it was pretty impressive that the guy was starting to figure things out, considering that he was under some serious stress at the moment.

"So what did they want you to do in return?" the agent asked. "You got Leah's address in exchange for what? Can't be information; you're already in WITSEC. What are you supposed to do for them, Benny?"

"What do you think?" he asked, gesturing slightly with the gun he held.

Eppes' eyes flickered down to the Sig before going back to the road. The streetlights were sparser up here, the time spent in shadow greater between the flashes of orange-tinted light. Then he shook his head. "That'd be a little too much of a happy coincidence for you, wouldn't it? Besides, if someone in the FBI had it in for me, it's a hell of a lot easier to lay down some friendly fire in the middle of an operation somewhere."

The guy was good. Benny opened his mouth to tell him to shut up, then shrugged. It didn't matter if he figured out why he was driving himself to his own execution. He'd be dead by the end of the night either way. Out loud he asked, "So what _do_ you think?"

There was silence for a moment. Then Eppes said slowly, "I think someone in the FBI told you where to find Leah. I think they wanted you to do something in return, but you decided to shaft them. But then you thought that as long as you were here in town, you'd get a little revenge in. So you've been following me around until you could add kidnapping a federal agent to your list of charges."

"Kidnapping ain't all I'm gonna do," he said casually, watching the flinch that Eppes couldn't hide once he caught the meaning of his words.

Eppes swallowed. Then he went on, his voice slightly strained, "Look, if you tell the FBI who it was that put you up to this, WITSEC can extend your deal. It's not completely unheard of, even...even for murder. But killing a federal agent—there's no way you can get out of that."

Benny scoffed. "What, you think I'm gonna go back to Miss Bad-Ass Marshal Yaegger and tell her I'm sorry and I want another chance?" He shook his head. "Shit, maybe you're not as smart as I thought."

That got him a more careful look. "It was Yaegger?" Eppes asked disbelievingly.

"Oh, hell, you're just guessing now." The Suburban eased to a stop at a traffic light, and Benny looked around cautiously. No one was in sight, cars or pedestrians, and he relaxed against the seat again, although his grip on the Sig remained firm.

When he looked back at the driver's seat, Eppes was watching him, dark brown eyes flickering from the gun to his face and back again. So he shifted his aim a little higher, to drive home the point that he was in charge here. Eppes returned his attention to the road a second before the light changed to green.

As they started forward again, the agent said, "You're risking an awful lot here, Benny. McGurn's had a contract on your head for years, and now the FBI is going to be after you, too. There's nowhere for you to run now, nowhere for you to go. Is all that worth it?"

It was a gamble, all right, bigger than even the Fed knew. And hell if he was going to let the man talk his way out of it. "You have no idea what you're talking about," he replied.

"You're right, I don't. So why don't you tell me."

God, he hated that tone of voice. That patronizing, condescending, arrogant tone of voice that the Feds used when they wanted something from you. Like they knew they were going to get whatever it was in the end, and they just wanted you to think that it was your choice to tell them. He'd heard it a hundred times in interrogation rooms and in his crappy little apartment in Seattle, listening to that damn Marshal Yaegger tell him that he was in protective custody for his own good and would he please tell them something else that they already knew about his former colleagues so they could be sure that they could trust what he'd already said and so that the price on his head would go up even higher. "Fuck you," was all he said.

Silence fell again. They rolled to a halt at a stop sign, then moved on. There was maybe a mile to go now. Suddenly, Eppes made a fist and pounded it on the steering wheel, and Benny brought the gun up sharply, reaching across his body and leveling it with the agent's head. "What are you doing?" he demanded.

"Sorry." The agent curled his fingers back around the wheel almost meekly as he drew a deep breath. There was a pause, and then he went on, "You've got guts, Benny, I'll give you that."

"What are you talking about?" He withdrew the gun slightly but kept a careful eye on his captive.

Eppes licked his lips. "I'm talking about me. You're not just out for revenge here. And you're not doing someone else's bidding. You think that if you bring my head on a platter to McGurn or whoever his replacement is that he'll cancel the contract on you and you can get back to your old life. That's what's going on here, isn't it?"

_How the hell did he figure that out?_ He stared at the agent, aware too late that his dumbfounded silence was probably giving the same answer as if he'd opened his mouth.

"Benny, you're not an idiot. Come on, how long were you working for McGurn, ten years?" Without waiting for a reply, Eppes went on, "Did you ever see him take someone back after they'd gone against him?"

"Yeah, I did," he replied defiantly. "Eduardo Garcia. Came back with his tail between his legs and worked his way back up."

"Garcia, huh?" Eppes tapped the brakes as they came to a stop sign. "He's the one who we tailed home and had a conversation with once, right? Connections to Veracruz and the cocaine trail from South America?"

That was impressive. How'd the man remember a little detail like that from six years ago? "Yeah," he answered, a little more warily.

"He didn't turn state's evidence. He didn't go into WITSEC and spill the beans about the entire organization. He never told us a thing. You really think that McGurn's gonna lift the order out on you, no matter what you do?"

"Yeah, I do," Benny replied, raising the gun again. He'd thought about this long and hard over the last few days, and he knew what Alfred McGurn would do if this went as planned. Okay, maybe he wouldn't direct his replacement to welcome Benny back with open arms, but Benny knew he could talk his way into the good graces of his former employer. "Getting rid of both the Wexford bitch and you? That's worth a lot to him, believe me. If it weren't for you, she'd have been out of the way years ago, and McGurn probably never woulda gone to prison. He'll be glad to hear I put a bullet in your head."

The agent's next indrawn breath had the tiniest unevenness to it, and the corner of Benny's mouth turned up. _Mr. Hot Shot's getting rattled,_ he thought smugly, and he pressed on. "Plus there's what I know about what the FBI knows about the operations he's still got going. I'm a valuable asset to his organization." That was the genius to his plan. He'd portray himself as a double agent, a spy who knew what the FBI was up to and could tell the guy who was running things now how to avoid the sting that Benny knew was coming. They'd love to hear what he had to say. He'd be a hero and instantly move farther up in the organization that he had been when he left.

"You're a turncoat and you'll be shot on sight." Eppes' voice cut into his thoughts. "Don't be stupid, Benny. Come back in and add on to the deal you've already got. It's the best thing you can do right now."

He switched hands on the Sig, extending his left arm and deliberately placing the end of the barrel against the FBI agent's temple. "The best thing you can do right now," he said clearly, "is to shut up."

He was pleased to note that Eppes's next breath was more than a little uneven. But the other man kept his silence, pressing his lips together as if to physically keep the words in. Benny waited until they had gone an entire block before drawing the gun back, not missing how Eppes briefly closed his eyes, the flash of relief across his face clear even in the dim glow of the streetlights.

Too bad for him that relief was going to be short-lived.

The car rolled to a stop, and Benny looked out the windshield. The road had come to an end in front of them, the dark slopes of the San Gabriel foothills rising from the other side of the cross-street. "Pull over," he said, gesturing with the gun towards a small parking area off the side of the road. Eppes obeyed, pulling into a parking space in the dirt lot and turning off the ignition.

There was silence for a moment. Then the agent asked in a tight voice, his gaze once more flickering to the gun aimed at him, "What now?"

_Like you don't know_, Benny wanted to retort. Instead he reached for the door handle and said, "Stay put till I tell you." Without taking his eyes off the other man, he slowly climbed out of the car and pointed the gun back through the open door. "Get out. Nice and slow, and keep your hands where I can see them." He watched as the agent did as he was told, opening the door and stepping out onto the dirt below. "Now shut the door and move to your left, hands on the hood."

Benny started to walk around the front of the SUV, looking around in all directions to make sure there was no one in sight. When he got to his captive, he came up behind him and jabbed the gun into his lower back, making sure the other man knew it was there. "Hold still," he commanded, patting him down and switching hands as necessary. He found an ankle holster with a small piece in it which he tucked into his pocket. _Good thing I checked_, he thought. He pulled the badge and ID from the front of Eppes' waist and tossed them through the open window into the SUV. Maybe he couldn't bring the man's head to McGurn, but this was the next best thing.

He noticed the handcuff pouch at the back of the agent's belt and hesitated. On the one hand, it would be reassuring to know that his target was securely restrained. But on the other hand, the trail was pretty rough, and he didn't want to be slowed down if the guy couldn't catch himself if he lost his balance. So he left the handcuffs where they were. "Let's go," he said.

They started up a wide dirt path that was more like a fire road. Eppes was in front and Benny was following about three feet behind, close enough that he could shut down any attempt the man made at getting away, but not so close that there was any chance of the FBI agent getting a hold of the gun aimed at his back. About a hundred yards down the road, he barked out, "To your left." A faint track ran up the mountainside next to them, angling sharply upwards and away from the main route. Eppes cast a glance over his shoulder, and Benny motioned with the gun.

They trudged up the steep track for another ten minutes or so, Benny keeping a careful eye on his footing, his captive, and his surroundings, in roughly that order. He had a particular place in mind that he'd scouted out earlier, and he needed to be sure he had just the right spot. It was on the other side of the ridge from a scattering of houses, at a place where the trail cut across a particularly steep part of the hillside. Down below there was a thicket of bushes that would hide a body for weeks or maybe even months.

They rounded a corner, and he paused. This looked like it. Yep, there was that large white boulder with the black streaks through it that he'd seen earlier, the moonlight overhead reflecting off the shiny stripe of black rock. "Stop right there," he called out.

Eppes froze in his tracks. Benny watched him carefully, coming a few steps closer as he did so. The FBI agent slowly turned around, the weak light of the moon reflecting off his pale face. There was silence for a moment. Then, his gaze moving down to the gun for a second before meeting Benny's, he said in a low tone, "You don't have to do this."

He understood that this was the closest Eppes would ever get to begging for his life, and it brought him no small amount of satisfaction to hear it. He waited a moment and then said, "No, I don't. But I'm gonna really enjoy it anyway."

For the first time, he saw fear on the other man's face. He'd seen that look at least a dozen times: the panicked understanding of the target that life was over, that everything they had tried to do to avoid this moment was useless, and that within a few minutes, their last breath would be evaporating into the air. He'd seen that look on Leah Wexford's face as she tried to crawl up the stairs with three bullets in her body, pointlessly trying to avoid her fate. He'd seen it on her husband's face five years ago, that same shocked awareness mingling with the most primitive of animal instincts—the fear of death—after he rolled down the window of his car and unknowingly made it even easier for his killer to complete his assignment.

And now he saw it on Don Eppes' face.

But it faded quickly, replaced with the same stoic calm that he'd been displaying all evening. _Wonder if they make them practice that look in front of the mirror?_ Benny thought. _Lesson One at the FBI Academy: 'How to keep the perp from knowing you're scared to death.'_ It didn't matter in this case; he'd already seen it.

"Turn around," he commanded, keeping his own voice emotionless. No need to lord it over the other man; he'd already won. And for all that he was pissed at the man for keeping Leah out of his sights back in Albuquerque, he had a grudging respect for the man for doing his job so well. Benny could respect another professional when he saw one.

A few seconds passed. Eppes' hands clenched into fists, but other than that, he didn't move. Benny was about to repeat the command when the agent took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders. Then he slowly turned, facing the edge of the trail and the steep hillside that fell away beneath him, turning his back on Benny and the Sig Sauer that was raising to point directly between his shoulder blades.

oooooooooooooooooo


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thanks for your reviews! This is a short piece; in fact, here's the finale. Sorry that I couldn't resist breaking it at the cliffhangeriest point...

oooooooooooooooo

Benny watched as the other man's head bent forward, and he figured he was saying a prayer or something. Wouldn't be the first time he'd seen that. He pulled back the hammer on the gun and saw Eppes' shoulders stiffen at the sound. His head was still down, but now it was moving slightly back and forth.

He realized what the FBI agent was doing a fraction of a second too late.

As his finger started to tighten on the trigger, there was suddenly nothing there. After scoping out the ground below him, Eppes had silently pitched forward and deliberately fallen down the near-cliff at the edge of the trail: the same route that his body would have taken a second later, except without Benny's bullet in it.

"God damn it," he muttered, moving to the crumbling edge and looking down. What the hell difference did it make if the man killed himself or had someone do it for him? No one could survive a fall like that. Dead was dead—it didn't matter how it happened. But it sure would have been a lot easier if Benny could be positive it had happened at his hand.

A series of rustles and thumps matched the progress of the body tumbling down the hillside. First Eppes was reaching out a hand to keep himself from smashing into a boulder the size of a sheepdog, then letting out a loud grunt of pain as his hip contacted an even larger rock. His right foot appeared to briefly catch on something, and he let out a sharp cry that must have been audible back down at the start of the trail. Benny saw the rapidly-receding figure curl his arms over his head for protection as he continued his careening journey down the hill, finally crashing to a halt at the same thicket that was supposed to have hidden his dead body. A few rocks that had been disturbed by Eppes' fall continued to rustle and clank their way down the hill, and then silence fell again.

Benny watched for a moment, hoping to see the man lying still and lifeless, but in a few seconds there was a slight motion visible on the moonlit hillside. "God damn it," he repeated. He sighted down the barrel towards the dark shape below, but that same damn boulder was in the way. He was going to have to climb down and do this the hard way.

Fifteen minutes later and two hundred feet down the mountainside, he'd run through the standard obscenities and had moved on to some creative speculation regarding Eppes' parentage and the kind of anatomical impossibilities he should be attempting. He'd tried a couple more times to draw a bead on the injured agent, but he had withdrawn further into the thicket, his dark clothing blending with the vegetation. Benny didn't want to fire until he was sure he was going to hit his target; the nearest house was over the ridge, but one loud noise was harder to mistake for a gunshot than multiple blasts would be. Eppes hadn't moved very far, which probably meant he was hurt enough that he couldn't run. _Just postponing the inevitable_, he thought, briefly holstering his gun while clambering over a particularly tricky section of rock. Not much farther to go. He didn't want to think about the effort it was going to take to climb back up to the trail. That was one more thing to take out on the target once he got there.

He was close now, only a few yards from the edge of the thicket. He slid a little on the steep hillside, a shower of pebbles racing away past his feet. He froze in place, watching the dark shape that was the size and shape of Don Eppes, but it didn't move. _Huh. Maybe he finally passed out_. He took a step closer, drawing his gun and training on the agent, wanting to get a hair's-breadth closer before putting the man out of his misery.

The movement to his right caught him entirely by surprise.

Benny started to duck, but the object moving towards his head was coming too fast. It struck his temple, and he staggered sideways, the gun falling out of his hand as his arms automatically came out to stop his fall. He crashed to the ground, hands slicing open on sharp rock, reaching out frantically for his fallen weapon only to have his fingers close on empty air as the FBI agent snatched it from the ground and rolled away, gasping with pain as he did so, but still managing to raise the weapon and point it straight at him.

There was no sound for a moment but the harsh breathing of the two men. Benny could feel every piece of rock digging into his side beneath him, could feel his twisted left ankle where it had become trapped between two good-sized rocks as he fell. He raised his head and saw the black material of the agent's handcuff pouch lying on the dirt next to him, the glint of the metal cuffs stained with a dark red smear. He lifted a hand to his face to feel the blood trickling down his temple. Well, wasn't that fitting. He'd decided not to use Eppes' own cuffs on him, and now they were the reason for his own downfall. That wasn't a mistake he was going to make again.

"Put them on." The voice was ragged but firm, the agent now in control of the situation like he hadn't been since he got in his SUV half an hour ago.

Benny glared back defiantly. "Like hell." He eyed the other man carefully. Maybe he could return the favor, hurl the deceptively-heavy pouch back at him and distract him long enough to get at the backup weapon he'd taken from the agent's ankle holster a few minutes ago and tucked in the back of his jeans. He noticed the dark line of blood on Eppes' left forearm, the way he was still taking shallow breaths when Benny had caught his breath already. He was hurt bad, that was for sure. Which meant that if Benny kept his head, he could still get what he wanted out of this.

Eppes was lying on his back, head raised and both arms extended. Suddenly, he shifted his aim a foot to the side and pulled the trigger. Benny flinched at the sudden noise and the rock chips that stung his arms. He made a motion, and Eppes raised the gun higher. His face was wreathed in pain, his right leg bent back at an odd angle and a line of red marking his arm, but the fire in his eyes was for real. "Trust me, Natale, I'm just looking for an excuse," he ground out from behind clenched teeth.

Benny looked at the agent more closely and saw that he meant it. He was half surprised the man hadn't already pulled the trigger, but then he probably didn't have it in him. So he kept still, waiting to see what the other man would do next.

A moment passed. Then Eppes said, "You've got my backup piece. Slowly, take it out and drop it in front of you."

_Ah, damn it_. There went that idea. Still half on his right side, half on his stomach, Benny slowly reached back and pulled the small Glock from his waistband. He eyed the other man carefully, but even if he was injured, Eppes was still alert. And the Sig was obviously functional. Grudgingly, he tossed the weapon off to the side, out of the reach of both of them. Eppes' eyes tracked it, but he didn't move.

"Looks like you're not doing too well down there," Benny said. "You think you're gonna get out of this in one piece?"

The other man ignored him, lifting his chin towards the pouch with the handcuffs. "Put them on," he repeated. He took a shallow breath and went on, "Hands in front of you."

He reached slowly for the pouch, judging how much effort it would take to throw it at the other man. But the gun moved again, and fired again, and he knew Eppes meant business. Two rounds gone, six left. He doubted he'd use up all of his warning shots before one of them actually hit him. Grudgingly, he opened the pouch and removed the handcuffs, fastening them loosely around his wrists under the agent's watchful eye.

Once the cuffs were on, Eppes started to sit up but then closed his eyes for a moment. Benny began to gather his legs underneath him but froze as the agent came to a sitting position and pointed the Sig at his head. He held out his hands placatingly, and Eppes lowered the gun a little, his arms shaking ever so slightly as he did so.

"Now what?" Benny asked, deliberately echoing the other man's words from a few minutes ago.

There was a long pause, and Benny slowly realized that the other man had no idea. Neither of them was carrying a cell phone that he could use to call his Fed buddies, and since it looked like the agent was expending all of the strength he had just to sit upright at this point, he wasn't exactly gonna be marching back down the trail to bring him into custody. He watched the uncertainty flicker in the other man's eyes, and he bit back a grin. "Tell you what," he said in a conciliatory tone. "You let me go, and I'll leave you alone and just get out of town. Hell, if I can take the cuffs off, I'll even call an ambulance for you. How 'bout that?"

"Like hell," Eppes muttered, echoing his words in turn. "You're not going anywhere except to prison, Natale."

"And who's gonna make me?" He nodded in the agent's direction. "You can't even stand on your own two feet right now; how're you gonna take me in?"

Eppes drew in a long breath and looked around, scanning their surroundings. Benny frowned, wondering what the other man was looking for. He didn't see anything but a bunch of rocks and trees. Not even trees, really; there was a bunch of scrubby stuff behind the FBI agent that reminded Benny of the mountainsides near Albuquerque, but only one or two trees worthy of the name. Beyond the scrubby thicket, he could see the faint orange glow of the city. Millions of people were within a few miles of them, but they might as well have been in the middle of nowhere.

"That tree." Eppes gestured with the gun towards a sad little evergreen tree a few yards away, no taller than Benny and the trunk no thicker than his wrist. "Take the key and uncuff your left hand, then fasten the cuff around the tree trunk." He paused for breath. "Down at the bottom, under all the branches."

Benny eyed him cautiously. As bad of shape as the guy looked to be in, he was holding the gun awfully steady. So he grudgingly slid over to the tree, wincing as his injured ankle scraped over the rocks. He did as he was told and then dropped the key to the ground without being asked. It wasn't within his immediate reach, but with a little twisting and reaching, he should be able to get to it.

Once he was secured to the tree, Eppes let out a sigh. He looked at his watch—why, Benny had no idea—and then lowered his arms so the gun was resting in his lap, vaguely pointed in Benny's direction but nowhere near as threatening as it had been a moment ago. A spark of hope started to rise in him. If Eppes was planning on leaving him here and hiking out, he'd be lucky to make it in one piece, beat-up as he looked. All Benny had to do was be patient, get to that key, and he'd be out of here. Might even catch up with the FBI agent on the way and take him out after all. He forced himself to sit still, head down, looking as cowed as he could.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Eppes shifting around, moving his good leg under him and trying to stand up. He couldn't hide a grunt of pain, although when Benny turned his head to look, the Sig moved back in his direction. He dropped his gaze, slowly moving his own leg so that it was closer to the key he'd dropped. As Eppes struggled to his feet, bracing himself with a hand on the boulder next to him, Benny got his heel on top of the shiny metal and started to pull it closer to him. He stopped when the key was only a few inches from his fingers, carefully moving his leg back to where it had been. A quick glance told him that the agent hadn't noticed; he was busy wiping sweat from his brow and testing his weight on his right leg. It almost instantly started to buckle, and Eppes barely caught himself before pitching forward onto the ground. Instead, he stood there, chest heaving, gun tucked away in his holster and frustration written all over his face.

Suddenly, there was a rustling in the bushes off to Benny's right. He turned his head, noting that Eppes was drawing the gun and raising it to point at this new threat. _Shit, are there cougars here? _he thought, alarm rising._ Or bears? And I'm cuffed to a fucking tree!_ He scrabbled for the key, no longer caring if the agent noticed him or not. His fingers had just closed around the metal when the bushes parted and someone stepped out.

No, this was worse than a cougar. It was a police officer, gun drawn and looking back and forth between the two of them, clearly not sure what to make sure of the situation.

Behind him, Eppes was raising his hands into the air, pointing the Sig towards the sky. "Officer, my name is Special Agent Don Eppes," he said, relief evident in his voice. "I'm with the FBI, and I'm the one who fired the shots. My badge is in the SUV at the trailhead, number 2317616."

There was a pause. Then the cop raised his radio to his mouth. "You got that, Sanders?"

"Yeah," came a staticky reply. "I'll check on that."

Benny felt the first stirrings of panic. He wasn't going to be able to overpower the cop_and_ Eppes and get away with a busted ankle. He could read it on Eppes' face, could see the relief behind the still-wary gaze. The end was in sight for the agent.

Which meant it was in sight for Benny, too.

"Who's he?" the cop asked, jerking his head towards him.

He opened his mouth, but Eppes spoke faster. "He's a suspect in a murder of a federal witness, and I can personally attest to his kidnapping and attempted murder of a federal agent." Wavering a bit where he stood, he lowered one hand to lean against the rock next to him.

The cop was eyeing him carefully, but apparently decided that he wasn't much of a threat, banged-up as he was. The radio crackled, and a voice spoke into the night air. "I got the badge and the ID. White male, long face, short-cropped black hair, dark brown eyes."

That could describe either one of them, and the cop knew it. He hesitated, then said, "You'd better bring it down here, Sanders."

Eppes gave an exasperated sigh and said, "Call the L.A. FBI office and ask them to put you in touch with Megan Reeves. She's my partner, she can verify who I am." He leaned a little harder on the boulder, his face stark white in the moonlight.

The cop relayed the message, and Benny took advantage of the distraction to slide the key into the cuff that was around the tree trunk and turn it. The quiet click was barely audible underneath the cop's conversation, but as he gave Eppes a sideways glance, he realized the FBI agent had heard it, and he froze. He watched the realization play over the other man's face, and then he barked, "Hold it right there," with more force than Benny would have thought the badly-injured man could manage.

He froze, trying to look innocent. Not that he had a whole lot of experience with that, but it was the only thing he could do. Eppes had raised the gun again, pointing it at him, and a second later, the policeman's voice rang out. "Hey, put that down!"

Eppes was speaking through gritted teeth, and it looked to Benny like he was staying upright by sheer force of will. "He's trying to get loose."

"Yeah, well, as far as I know right now, he's the FBI agent," came the sharp reply. "Put your gun back down."

Benny took advantage of the men's argument to tug the handcuffs loose from the tree. Now he had both hands free, even if one had a handcuff dangling from it. Not that there was anywhere for him to go, anyway, but at least now he could move once he got the chance. Eppes started to say something, but he was interrupted by the radio. "Special Agent Reeves says to ask him what his junior-year batting average was."

_Like he's gonna remember that,_ Benny thought, but he was struck by the expression on the agent's face. He looked genuinely startled, almost afraid for a moment, as though the question had caused him to remember something unpleasant. But he quickly recovered and replied, "Two ninety-three."

There was more conferring with the cop at the other end of the radio, and the man nodded. "All right. See you in a few." Then he shifted his aim to point at Benny. "Take it easy, Agent Eppes," he said. "Help is on the way."

Benny's heart sank as his gaze moved to the FBI agent. He thought about what Eppes had done a moment ago, diving off the side of the mountain in what he had thought had been a suicide jump but had turned out to be a gutsy risk that paid off in spades. He didn't have any such option open to him, not with two guns pointed at him from a few feet away. His ankle felt like it was broken, which meant there was no getting away for him.

His thoughts started to travel further down the path of his future, and a cold, uncomfortable certainty started to form. He'd gotten away with a lot under the WITSEC program, had managed to keep up the lifestyle he was used to by constantly reminding his handlers of how much he was worth to them. But murdering Leah Wexford and now what was sure to go down as kidnapping and assault and attempted murder of a Fed...Eppes was right, there was no way out of that. He was headed for some serious prison time. And since he'd lost his gamble, he would have no protection from what McGurn and the rest of the Albuquerque mob would throw at him. He'd be dead inside of six weeks.

Crouched on the ground, he looked down the barrel of his own gun. Now he understood. A few minutes ago, he'd thought Eppes was crazy for taking a suicidal leap off the side of the mountain. But getting to choose your own death—that _was_ preferable to having it chosen for you. Now he understood. And he wondered if the awareness of his rapidly-impending mortality was as visible on his face as it had been on the face of the man in front of him a few minutes ago.

Benny Natale took a deep breath. Then he met Eppes' eyes. "Special Agent Chris Frederickson," he said clearly. If he wasn't walking away from this, no way some lousy two-faced Fed was getting away free and clear.

He watched for a second as the light dawned on the other man's face. Then a second wave of understanding passed over the agent's features, and he started to shake his head.

Then Benny lunged forward, both hands reaching for his gun.

The bark of the weapon firing was the loudest thing he'd ever heard. The pain that blossomed in his chest was the strongest thing he'd ever felt, instantly chasing away all other sensations and blurring everything together into one hot, fiery mass. He twisted and fell sideways, one hand coming up to his chest, the other grasping at the rocks beneath him as he fell to the ground.

The last thing that registered in his sight was the grim resignation and even sorrow in the FBI agent's eyes as he lowered the weapon. And the fact that he saw that—not vindication, not triumph—made it possible for Benny to forgive the man who had killed him as his eyes slid shut for the last time.

oooooooooooooooooo

A/N: Sorry about the dark ending, but it seemed fitting somehow. Don't forget to review…


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